And on this occasion I’m not talking about the song by Cliff Richard (Don’t judge me, I love Cliff!) but I am talking about the best thing about the long, hot days of July and August. Summer holidays. Kids in the UK get around 6-8 weeks over July and August away from school and this is the time lots of families take the time to go on holiday.
I’ve been to Scarborough just about every year since I was five (that’s coming up on 3 decades now) and I still love it. As a kid I loved the beach, the sea, the 2p machines in the arcades and the ice cream. Oh and the miniature railway and the open top bus.
Now I’m a grown up I love exactly the same things with an added appreciation of the gorgeous scenery and beautiful old buildings.
It’ll come as no surprise to you then when I tell you I write a lot of stories set in Scarborough. Today I’m going to share a little from my latest one with you. A proper British seaside holiday is within the pages of Smut by the Sea. It’s an anthology I have co-edited with the talented and lovely Lucy Felthouse and is filled with sensual, saucy seaside stories.
So here’s a snippet from mine.
So I set out to Scarborough to revisit the joy of my childhood. Of course my memories were sun-bathed and glorious, but by the grace of the British weather it was throwing it down with rain when I pulled into the familiar white-frilled platform of my haven of sanity.You can pick up your copy of Smut by the Sea here: http://smutbythesea.co.uk/anthology-vol-1/
And it wasn't just a shower, it kept up raining as I walked around to find a hotel room. It was also the kind of rain with purpose that they get up north. I'd forgotten the biting chill of rainwater impacting forcefully on skin and the short amount of time it takes to get wet, properly wet.
In London I leap from office to Tube to taxis and restaurants and back, I don't have time to get more than damp. By the time I found a hotel with a vacancy, I was drenched to the skin but I was happy. I'd seen my first glimpse of the tumble-down castle and heard the cry of the seagulls. I smelt the tang of salt on the air and smiled.
I sat in my room a while, it was gifted with a huge window and a view of the sea. As I dried out I watched the sea boil and break, churning white with ferocity and power. I tracked the familiar coast and picked out landmarks, absorbed the nostalgia and breathed. I was so relaxed, sat there in the comfort of my room with my wet jeans steaming on the radiator that my mind slipped to pleasure for the first time since forever. The soft velour chair stroked my thighs and made me feel decadent. I realised that I was sat by my hotel window half naked, thought about it a moment, then shrugged.
I was high up and overlooking the sea but hidden from public view. Who would want to look anyway? I am just a chubby girl; no one ever glances at me twice. And I don't mind, I'm too busy, then too exhausted for sex anyway. But there in that hotel room I felt stirrings I'd almost forgotten I could experience.
I was hyper aware of my breathing, my bust rising and falling under the plain white t-shirt protecting them. I watched them heave out of the corner of my eye and gazed out at the rain and the sea and the squall. The undulation of the tide seemed to mimic the rise and fall of my chest and I found myself unable to resist reaching up and stroking across my breast. I felt tingles slip down between my cleavage, over the hillock of my stomach to the valley below.
So where did you spend your holiday/vacation as a child? Share your childhood memories here to be put in the draw for the anniversary weekend prizes!
About the Author:
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England, and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.
Find out more at http://victoriablisse.co.uk and find Victoria on Facebook and Twitter .